


Honest Promise to a Degree

by PatternsInTheIvy



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Manipulation, Fix-It, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Moral Ambiguity, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reckless Behavior, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:00:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29096154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatternsInTheIvy/pseuds/PatternsInTheIvy
Summary: In the aftermath of Jack’s death, Mac tries to move on by pretending he is fine. But nothing is right, and when a clue that Jack might be alive is sent to him, Mac throws himself on a dangerous path to find the truth and, more importantly, bring Jack home.
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 21





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, a few things: I've been working on this since 5x05 aired, and this is a fix-it, but it will take time for things to get fixed :). Also, it might happen that this will get really dark in the future (I’ll only find out when I sit down to write those chapters, this is just a little warning.)
> 
> For now, I’d say that if you want to read about Mac spiraling down, this might be right up your alley. If you want a fluffy fix-it, this isn’t and won’t be that. All my fix-its turned out either really angsty or really cracky ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ what can I do?
> 
> Also, I won’t include canon romantic relationships in this because, with the exception of 5x05, I’m not watching the show anymore. I wouldn’t do any pairing justice if I tried to write them (and I generally suck at writing romantic relationships, anyway.)
> 
> Lastly, the title is taken from Opeth's song _Continuum_.

_*_

_*_

_Honest promise to a degree_

_The edge too sharp for guarantees_

_*_

_*_

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

* * *

Everyone asks if he’s going to be fine, and Mac says he will. He mostly means it, even if in a yearning sort of way. Deep down, he isn’t sure that he believes in that, but he forces himself to, at the very least, convince himself that he believes he will be fine, because that’s the first part of selling the lie. If he can’t convince himself of something, he won’t fool anyone else—this is something he knows very well.

He just needs to pretend and to believe enough to convince the others.

It doesn’t matter if things are as far as they can be from fine.

It doesn’t matter if, mentally, he’s still inside the bathroom of the jet, losing all control and just letting himself feel everything he needed to feel. Every day, every minute, he feels that his control is as flimsy as it was at that moment, when reality started to sink in, when the fact that he wasn’t having a nightmare truly hit him. As the days passed, bled into weeks, that realization has only been solidified, and it gets harder and harder to pretend that anything is right.

Truth be told, things haven’t been right for a long time, it’s just that before it was a wrongness that could be, somehow, corrected. It wasn’t permanent, the possibility of everything being made right again was always there, in the back of his mind, and the expectation and hope had a home in his heart.

People say that time eases the pain, but Mac isn’t sure if that’s the truth. Sure, time makes the shock go away, but it gives room to the wondering, to dreams and daydreams of what won’t ever happen.

The what-ifs are the worst part of the process.

He _still_ goes through that concerning his mother, and, in a way that is more loaded with bitterness than yearning, his father. Mac knows very well how that works.

What should, could, _would_ have been, all of that is destroyed by what _is_. There is the soft remembrance of the past, but the present is unchangeable, unforgiving. The future remains to be seen. Mac can do so many things, but he can’t change this, can’t create a different future. Maybe, if he’d been with Jack, all his skill and knowledge wouldn’t have been useless. But he was half the world away… and he missed Jack’s calls.

Maybe they would have died together. _You go kaboom, I go kaboom_.

And yes, he would have preferred that. It wouldn’t hurt, he wouldn’t have to live in this reality—it’s still recent, barely more than a month and he feels like this, how is he supposed to live the rest of his life knowing that Jack won’t come back, that the feeling of missing him will only get more intense with the months, years, decades?

Honestly, he isn’t sure how he is going to do that, get his shit together and move on, he just knows that he will need to. There are people depending on him, and he has responsibilities. Those take precedence over his grief.

He gives it some time before starting to pretend he is fine, knowing that it would be too unbelievable if he did that _too soon_.

If he overhears Russ and Desi asking Bozer whether he is fine or not, he just ignores that. If Matty sometimes gives him knowing looks, he just puts more energy into pretending. If Riley wants to talk about Jack, he indulges her, even if sometimes he would rather do _anything_ other than that.

Bit by bit, Mac puts together that image, until he can almost look in the mirror and believe in that.

And then the letter arrives.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you people who subscribed to this fic/left kudos/comments etc. I hope you like this :)
> 
> I updated the additional tags that were a bit of a mess before. The present ones probably are the most relevant throughout the entire fic.

* * *

*

**Chapter 1**

*

* * *

Receiving a postcard from “Ozzy Ulrich” dated two days after Jack’s death is the first thing that gives Mac hope. Of course, it gets obliterated soon after, and that is worse than never having hoped at all.

But it is that postcard that leads the team to Croatia, to finishing Jack’s mission, to finding the woman who caused his death—the same woman who said, to their faces, that she owed Jack to finish his mission, who dared to look at them and say that Jack used to talk about his family, who even pretended to share some part of their loss…

Throughout his life, Mac has tried to shy away from hatred. He always had the impression that it leads nowhere but to more heartbreak. He could have chosen to hate his father, for example, and perhaps it is the decision not to that shaped the next two decades of his life where that particular feeling is concerned. He could have chosen to hate every other person who hurt him, but he likes to think that he did not.

Until Vitez.

And it is only after he decides to somehow put his life back on track that he really thinks about her. Every day that Jack doesn’t come back, that he stays dead, is one day more that _she_ is alive. She might be behind bars—rotting in prison like Riley said she would—but she is alive.

Naturally, it starts with anger at the unfairness of it all, it mixes with… well, with everything else, until he doesn’t know where one thing ends and the other starts. All that he knows is that he wants all of that gone, none of that belongs to him.

It takes even longer for him to notice that loss is not the only thing he’s trying to hide. Only when his nightmares start to take different forms does he realize what is happening.

He dreams of Vitez’s face, of her standing behind Jack and killing him in different ways. Mac always tries to stop her, in the dreams, but he is never able to. He is never fast enough to disarm a bomb, or to throw himself in front of a bullet, and even when he ends up with her blood on his hands, it is never enough. Even when it is Mac’s blood on the floor, the last thing he sees is Jack dying.

More often than not, Jack also asks Mac why he missed his calls before he dies.

Mac never has an answer to that question, he just says that he’s sorry, asks Jack to please forgive him—wakes up murmuring that against his pillow.

Skeptical, and a person who trusts evidence to form his outlook on life, Mac is not someone who cares to find any obscure meaning in dreams, but he knows what those images that he sees during sleep mean; it’s not a matter of attributing a mystical or supernatural interpretation to them, of recognizing the truth in them.

And that is the hardest thing to bury and hide—although, to be honest, it’s not like he deserves to.

But he does succeed in, at least relatively, not thinking about any of that too much, and not thinking is the only way of moving forward—some people would disagree, but, well, it’s not like they are the ones who have to listen to his thoughts.

On the surface, his mind is smooth and calm, but beneath that there is a sea of boiling thoughts and emotions just waiting to burst.

The second time that Mac is given hope is when he hears the Manniversary clue. Considering how the last one went… well, Mac kept hoping that he was somehow wrong about how he had decided to interpret that clue, that they would end up finding Jack at the end—Mac hadn’t even told the others about the hopeful interpretation of the clue, no, he’d kept that to himself.

If Mac were to be completely honest, he would admit to himself that he still, sometimes, wonders if he hadn’t got that clue wrong.

But if that had been the case, why wouldn’t Jack come back after all this time?

 _Because that isn’t the case, you’re just hoping for something that isn’t there_.

Yes, that made sense.

The third time that Mac is given hope, it comes with a hundred kinds of red flags attached, in the form of a letter—a simple piece of paper folded in half, inside an envelope with no return address that he receives one morning. It is that letter, and the hope it inspires, that breaks through the bubble he’s so carefully put together.

He receives the letter on a Monday. It comes with the rest of his mail, and when he opens that envelope and unfolds the single sheet of paper inside, he doesn’t think much of it. But that only lasts until he finishes reading the first sentence.

_I was told that you’d like to hear about a man going by the name Robert Burton._

Coldness creeps up his spine when he sees that, and he has to lean against the wall behind him to avoid collapsing.

_I can tell you about him, if you want._

_And let’s keep this just between us for now. Don’t go running to other people, like you did when it was about Ulrich_.

By the time he finishes reading the letter, his mouth and throat are parched, and his heart is pounding inside his chest. It would be dramatic and very inaccurate to describe it like that, but the truth is that it almost feels like the world has lost its axis, spinning in uncoordinated ways.

Mac takes several breaths, tries to calm his racing heart and not to pay attention to his wild thoughts, and after a few minutes, he feels more in control again. The letter in his hand, he realizes when he looks down, is creased and almost torn at some points.

After rereading the letter, his first impulse is to almost ignore that veiled threat and call Matty. That would be the rational thing to do. Mac is quick to scroll through his contacts, and he’s almost pressing the call button when the first thought appears.

_What if the phone is tapped?_

That first “what if” is enough to stop him, and that single moment is all that matters. The rational part of his mind—the part telling him that this is obviously some sort of trap and that he’s falling right into it—gets completely muted by hope and fear in equal parts, and it’s not even a fair fight.

If thinking of what could have been is hard, thinking of what might be—thinking that Jack might be alive somewhere, and that Mac’s actions could change that—is suffocating.

It’s not even that Mac himself is ready to believe in that, to truly embrace that hope, it’s just that…

What if?

** ** ** **

On that night, for the first time in months, he doesn’t dream of Jack dying.

Instead, he dreams of the desert. He is alone, walking without direction, barefoot, and the weird thing is that he doesn’t feel the sand burning his feet. He just walks and walks for what feels like hours under the glare of the sun.

** ** ** **

His next days are filled with questions—one of them, in particular, always sounds louder than the others inside his mind.

If— _if_ Jack is alive, why hasn’t he contacted them in any way?

Why wouldn’t Jack call, send a letter—or whatever—to let his family know that he is alive? Would he let Riley, Mac, and everyone else suffer like that?

The answer is obvious.

No. He wouldn’t. Jack would _never_ do something like that.

That is what stops Mac from fully committing to _believing_. At the same time, that is also what makes him want, more than anything, to find the truth. There are only two possibilities: either it’s all a lie, or Jack is in a very bad situation, and needs help.

If there is someone out there willing to toy with Mac like that, what are they doing to Jack?

Thinking about all the possible reasons why Jack hasn’t come back makes his stomach feel heavy—having no idea of what could be happening to him just leaves his mind free to imagine every single possible terrible scenario.

Believing and having it be a lie would be crushing, but the alternative of not believing and leaving Jack out there, when he needs Mac, is inconceivable.

So he sets out to put to paper everything that he can remember about Jack’s aliases, his old missions, anything that can give Mac a clue about who is behind this. He doesn’t look in the databases to which he has access, not at first, at least. The last thing he needs is Matty—or Taylor, or anyone else, really—in his case, and he isn’t sure that him using his credentials to access files about Jack wouldn’t lead to some sort of notification.

They would think that he’s losing it.

** ** ** **

 _I was told that you’d like to hear about a man going by the name Robert Burton_.

Those words jolt him awake when Mac is almost managing to succumb to sleep—what he's been trying to do during the whole flight, in an attempt to alleviate the debt he’s accumulated through the last week of sleeping two or three hours every night.

He looks out of the window of the jet, the vast blue sky makes him feel small, like he is going to fail despite trying so hard not to. He failed Jack already, and now he can’t bear the idea that he won’t be able to find the truth, to find if he…

The contact of his fingers digging against the armrests of the chair doesn’t do the intended job of grounding him in the here and now. His mind isn’t in the right place—this last week, all that he can think about is that letter, and the memories that it sparked.

 _And let’s keep this just between us for now. Don’t go running to other people, like you did when it was about Ulrich_.

He isn’t stupid. Or, at least, Mac likes to think that he is aware of when he is doing something dumb—that he can account for that—but he knows that he should have gone to Matty with that letter as soon as he received it, and that every minute he keeps this secret he is just letting himself be potentially manipulated by whoever it is that got in touch with him.

Intellectually he knows that, but prioritizing that awareness over the hope, the wanting and, most of all, the fear of not taking that threat seriously is impossible. Maybe it is all a ruse to mess with him—though he isn’t sure of what anyone would gain with that—but maybe the truth is that Jack is alive, somehow, and that for some reason he’s still away.

Alive, and going by one of his old aliases. _That_ alias in particular.

_“I can’t believe the CIA let you get away with these aliases, Jack. Look at this—Ozzy Ulrich, seriously?—It’s obvious where this was taken from.”_

_Jack shrugs and hands Mac another passport, “see this one? If I ever use this one, it’s because I’m in some really bad situation,” his face is serious as he says that._

_Mac looks at the name there: Robert Burton. He turns to Jack again, “got it,” he frowns, “what’s the story behind this one? Why is this the one for bad situations?”_

There is a shake on his shoulder, pulling Mac out of the memory, almost making him jump. He blinks, only then noticing that his eyes are stinging, and takes a deep breath, focusing on the person in front of him.

Desi has a concerned expression on her face, “before you say anything—you are not fine, but I guess it’s useless to say that, right?”

He is tired of everyone watching his every step, asking how he is—everyone is just waiting for him to screw up, he knows that, waiting for the moment when Angus MacGyver will have a breakdown.

At least Desi isn’t trying to have a heart-to-heart like some of the others already did.

It looks like she wants to say something else, but then she just sighs and shakes her head, “we’re landing in ten minutes,” she says, already turning around.

Mac nods, grateful that they are finally getting to their destination, that he will have something else to worry about other than the possibility that he is losing his mind and that he is being led on by some sick person who is using Jack’s death to mess with him. At the same time, he can’t wait to just finish this mission and go home, so that he can continue his own investigation about Jack.

He is progressing slowly—so much that he hasn’t got anything that could lead him to who sent him the letter, or whether or not there are any leads on Robert Burton’s location. Maybe it is time to tell someone about this… it’s not like whoever sent the letter will know if he tells anyone, right?

But Jack’s alias was a CIA one, and if Matty knows about his aliases, there might be someone else in the CIA—or in any agency, really—that knows about them too. Someone who might be monitoring any access to certain files, and what if it’s someone in Phoenix, even? How did they know that he went to other people after receiving that postcard sent in the name of Ozzy Ulrich?

That argument is one he’s had with himself multiple times in the last week. He knows that Matty isn’t stupid, that if he decides to tell her, she will take his concerns seriously, and every day he keeps this a secret he is risking Jack’s life if he actually is alive.

_Yeah, but do you have any proof about that? No, you’re only someone who they will write off as suggestionable, and if for one minute they think this is just denial speaking…_

But if he told her, he would have her help, and everyone else’s too. He takes a deep breath, and maybe it is the mission that is about to begin that makes him feel brave, or maybe it’s just that he is tired of being unsure, of wondering, himself, if he’s losing his mind—going on like this feels just… too much. Standing in that hovering point between hope and distrust is exhausting him quickly.

It doesn't matter what motivates him, just that Mac decides there and then that after this mission he will take the letter to Matty and ask for her help.

_Please. Please. Let it be real._

** ** ** **

The mission is a simple one: invade the apartment of a businessman who might or might not have the stolen blueprints of a mass destruction weapon, get his computer, and get out.

It goes sideways very fast, because it turns out that inside the building there are many more guards than intel led them to believe—and they are also much better equipped and coordinated than expected.

Well, it doesn't really matter. What matters is that Bozer, who got in the building first wearing a prosthetic disguise, is easily spotted and captured, taken to the underground floor—the complete opposite of the penthouse where they are supposed to go.

They can still hear Bozer's comms for a few minutes after he is taken, it is enough to know that whoever has him will not be patient.

Mac isn’t really paying attention to what is going on, to Desi and Russ discussing what they should do, or to Matty’s and Riley’s voices over comms. They are all discussing how to get to the penthouse _and_ to the underground, discussing how to accomplish both the mission and Bozer's rescue.

That is what makes Mac just ignore them. All that he knows is that Bozer is going to die if he doesn’t do anything. It all passes through his mind in the blink of an eye: his dreams where Jack dies over and over again, Jack’s funeral. He won’t let it happen again.

Before Mac notices what he is doing, he is already acting, ignoring what everyone else is discussing and their requests for explanation once they see him start to run.

All that he knows is that he won’t let Bozer die because of a mission. Look where prioritizing a mission got Jack.

Besides, he won’t let someone else down, not when they need him. No more missed calls, no more not doing everything that he can to help.

Everyone just tells him to stop, to come back—so he turns off his comms.

** ** ** **

The mood in the jet in the back is heavy. Bozer and Desi are hurt, and after Mac and Russ do everything they can to help stabilize them—going to the hospital had not been an option, given that they weren’t even supposed to be there—it doesn’t take long for Russ to start talking about how irresponsible Mac had been, how he almost created an international incident, and how he almost cost them the mission, and how Mac is the reason why Desi was shot.

Mac wants to say a lot of things to Taylor—stuff that would probably be unfair, but right then he doesn’t care—and he almost does, it’s only a well-timed video call from Matty that interrupts him.

She wants to see Mac as soon he’s back.

Well, it’s not like he wasn’t already expecting that.

He spends the rest of the flight thinking.

** ** ** **

“What happened today can’t happen again,” Matty says, her voice firm and expression unyielding.

Mac knows what she is getting at, and he doesn’t want to hear it. He is so tired of everything, especially of taming the guilt, bitterness, and simmering anger, all things that he doesn’t know where to direct. More than anything, he is exhausted of hiding what he’s been doing in the last week, carefully as to not be noticed, acting only when he isn’t on missions—and it’s not like he can talk to her about that right now, like he was planning to.

Besides, he is trying his best, but it seems like he is the only one who learned anything from Jack’s death.

And now, Matty saying that just makes him irritated; at least irritation is better—not ideal, but milder, safer.

“I really don’t see how you can say that something I do in the field can or cannot happen again, you know how I work.”

She doesn’t get what is happening—what almost happened—not really, so it isn’t like she has any right to say that kind of thing to him.

She gives him an unimpressed look, squaring her shoulders, but her eyes soften, “I know that you’re suffering, Mac, we all are.”

Looking away briefly, Mac swallows, trying not to let her words get to him. In the last months, he’s been telling himself, day after day, that he is _fine_ . He doesn’t need anyone to come and tell him otherwise—he would like to ask Matty to not do that, _please_ , but she would probably interpret that in the wrong way, thinking that she is right.

“What are you talking about?”

“Can you honestly tell me that what you did today had nothing to do with Jack’s death?”

That is something that he actually can do. Sort of. It’s all semantics—what is messing with his mind lately is not Jack’s death, but the possibility that he isn’t dead.

He had been able to start to bury that loss, only to get it all scattered around again by that letter.

 _I was told that you’d like to hear about a man going by the name Robert Burton_.

Mac tries to shake off those words—now it’s not the time—and looks into Matty’s eyes, “what I did today had nothing to do with Jack’s death,” he says firmly.

Matty tilts her head, lips curling down, “not even you believe in what you say, and you need to realize that. I understand that what’s happened affected you deeply, but you will gain nothing from pretending that it didn’t—that it still does.”

“I am not pretending.”

Sighing, she looks away and shakes her head, “all right, Mac. I won’t push you into talking, but as your boss, I can’t accept an agent jeopardizing a mission because—”

“Bozer was going to die!” he replies, raising his voice and standing up, turning away from Matty. His hand goes to his chest, touching the metal covered by the fabric of his shirt. He’s been doing that a lot, and he is sure that some of the others noticed it, but no one said anything about it.

“There was a plan. Bozer knew it, you all did.”

“It went sideways,” he turns to face her again, hands falling at his sides.

“We were working on getting things back on track, and we would have been successful if it wasn’t for you.”

He almost expects her to tell him that the bullet that Desi caught was his fault—like Russ did—but Matty doesn't.

_Just because she isn't saying, doesn't mean she doesn't agree. Russ was right._

Mac snorts. So it is all his fault, huh? Yeah, maybe it is, but it’s better than having anoth—than having Bozer’s death on his hands. A mission isn’t worth anyone’s life. He wouldn’t let that happen, not again.

“You know that I’ve never exactly stuck to plans—”

“—but you never almost completely jeopardized an entire mission. Your improvisation has always been aimed at getting the job done,” she pauses, “you were emotionally compromised, Mac. And I have no other choice than pulling you out of the field.”

That last thing makes Mac freeze. On one side, being out of the field will suck, it will give him a lot of time to think—something that shouldn’t happen, he decided a few months ago—on the other side, that is exactly what he needs now. Time, to let him follow the leads he has, to find out if there is someone messing with him, and if Jack really is alive.

“It won’t happen again,” he says, at least putting some semblance of resistance, because that’s what he would be doing if he hadn’t received that letter. He also means that, because if there is one thing that he won’t let happen again is other people needing him and him not being there for them.

“I think you want it to be like that, but I can’t trust that something similar won’t happen again,” she pauses, “and for now the best course of action is to pull you out, Mac. I’m sorry, but I won’t change my decision. Your mind is not in the right place for missions.”

 _She fears that you’re a menace to everyone_.

It is okay if she thinks like that, because, deep down, he agrees—even when he is trying so hard not to be, and doing all he can to correct things… even if he is angry because people seem to know that.

“This isn’t permanent,” Matty adds, and then she looks at him as if she is searching for something, “Mac, I need you to know that you can talk to me if you need. You need to talk to someone.”

_And you were thinking of telling her about the letter. She wouldn’t believe you. That screw up that everyone was expecting? It finally happened._

He nods, not trusting his voice—could it be that Matty suspects or knows of what he’s been doing? Maybe he would need to speed things up. Do one big thing and disappear before anyone could stop him. Perhaps getting benched is a blessing.

“Don’t let things fester.”

“I won’t,” he says.

“And Mac? Don’t do anything rash.”

He nods, wondering if he is even contemplating taking that advice.

** ** ** **

Spending the night awake because he is investigating something is definitely an improvement over not being able to sleep at all, or being woken by dreams.

The next day, there’s a knock on his door early in the morning. Mac ends up taking some time to move from where he is sleeping on the sofa, and is a bit slow to answer. When he finally does, there is no one there. Lowering his eyes to the doorstep, he finds a package wrapped in brown paper. A rectangular box, from the looks of it, with a note—a post-it folded in half.

Sitting on the floor, Mac looks closely at the package sitting innocently there. He knows that he should call someone—the bomb squad, for example, because maybe other people don’t have that sort of concern, but _Mac_ is the kind of person who needs to worry whether a mysterious package he receives is a bomb.

Considering that once his entire house was the bomb, the package in front of him looks a bit uncreative.

But Mac is also fairly sure that he knows who left this for him. Carefully, he unfolds the post-it—it’s not like he’s going to arm a bomb simply by doing that. The letters there are tiny, too near to each other in places, like the person who wrote didn’t plan how much space they’d need.

_No need to feel afraid, MacGyver._

_I know (from a reputable source I’d say) all_

_about your familiarity with bombs. And this_

_is not one. So, like I said before, try not to call_

_attention to this._

Just like he suspected.

Taking a deep breath, Mac takes the package on his hands and closes the door behind him. That goes against common sense _and_ his training, but he doesn’t feel like he has a choice.

The package isn’t heavy, and he has no difficulty in removing the external wrapping, exposing a white box beneath. Despite knowing that he shouldn’t even do that, he still opens the box with care, steady hands moving the lid as if he were about to look at the plate of an IED.

There is only a phone inside, and Mac stares at the device for a brief time before the phone rings, startling him. There would be no point in hesitating, so Mac reaches out and presses the green button on the screen, then he takes the phone in hand and brings it to his ear.

“Hello,” he says.

“Ah, MacGyver,” a voice—it sounds mechanical and artificial—replies, “what a pleasure to talk to you.”

“I can’t say the same,” he replies, staring at the wall ahead, “what do you want?”

“A favor, MacGyver. You are going to do me a favor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?
> 
> (ok. I have to say this.  
> Ozzy Ulrich?  
> Like. I was VERY tempted to just give Jack the alias Bruce Hammet in this because that would be on about the same level of conspicuous as the canonical Ozzy Ulrich. Since this is a *serious* fic, I did not. But I wanted to.)

**Author's Note:**

> I have a few chapters of this written, but I won’t say I have a schedule for updates because I learned that I can’t keep up with those.


End file.
